The Runner Up

While not the competitive person I used to be, I still don’t like 2^nd place. Third I can deal with; “Top Three” sounds good, like an exclusive club you belong to, but 2^nd place is just plain not good enough to be 1^st.

In life, actions will often speak louder than words. Tonight, I got stood up for hundreds of strangers. I got stood up so Shaun could go to a Texas Hold ‘Em tournament at the Greektown Casino. Tonight I came in second place to poker. The volume of his actions has reached a deafening roar. Granted, he did only pay $5 to enter the drawing to win a seat in the tournament, but I think we all know that the likelihood of him winning the grand prize out of hundreds of entrants was pretty slim. I, however, was at least offered a consolation prize called, “Well We Can Hang Out After,” but I turned it down.

After everything that’s happened, after talking about trying to work on things, after him talking about being more responsible – wanting me to feel like I can depend on him to make the right choice when it all comes down to it – I get stood up for a card game.

And maybe all we were gonna do was sit on the couch and watch some funny TV and play with the cats; maybe we just would have laughed and enjoyed each other’s company and taken another small step toward figuring out this terrible mess we got ourselves into, but God dammit that sounds a lot better to me than a room full of strangers trying to take my money.

So he can get mad at me all he wants, and he can say that I don’t support him, but I will not apologize for not supporting a gambling habit. I've seen it ruin people, good people, people you would never have thought would flush away their kids' college savings, and then ante up and head back for more.

For now I will just sit here, in the house I grew up in, listening to the John Mayer Trio on Dad's gigantic headphones, and I will try to stop the tears once again in this short span of days.

Gravity ... is working against me.... Just keep me where the light is....

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Happy Un-Valentine's Day

Raise your hand if you've ever seen Disney's animated classic, "Alice in Wonderland." Ah, many of you, I thought so. Well, remember the Un-Birthday song that Alice sings with the Mad Hatter? In the spirit of the Un-Birthday I'm creating Un-Valentine's Day. We'll have 364 Un-Valentine's Days to celebrate every year, and that is way better than the completed shitty actual Valentine's Day that I'm about to have tomorrow.

What happens when you break up 2 days before V-Day? I'll tell you. You throw some shit in a bag & drive to your parents' house, because, even though you are 25 years old, you know that you will always be able to wake them up at 2:30 AM in tears without totally pissing them off. The next morning you wake up and while brushing your teeth you try to figure out how you're going to get all your stuff out of the apartment. You skillfully avoid looking your dad and brother in the eye because they'll be giving you that awkward, I love you but I just don't know what to say! look. That is the last look you need right now. Then you'll drive to work, eating a pear, listening to Beethoven's 7th Symphony.

Once you arrive at work you will avoid, avoid, avoid (like the plague!) that horrible question, "Hey, how are you?" You will want to say something like, "Well actually everything is total crap, and I'm feeling a bit heartbroken and miserable. But how are you?" But instead you say, "Fine," and keep walking. You will sit down at your desk and remove the multiple and adorable pictures of him from their various frames. You will wimp out and shove them into the back of a drawer instead of just throwing them away, you know -- just in case. Deep down though, you know that there will be no just in case, not this time.

The moment you realize that a person you thought could be The One is not, in fact, The One, it feels like someone has just drained all the blood from your heart. I think the worst part about all of this is how utterly disappointed I am that I didn't realize all of this much, much sooner. Especially before I signed a lease on an apartment and stupidly put every single utility bill in my name. Now, instead of a clean break from which we might both be able to heal, there are loose ends that need to be tied up, messy conversations that need to be had. I know that instead of this being the end of the frustration and tears and bitter disappointment, it's going to be the beginning of something worse.

He made some big mistakes, and then he made some more, and for a while I stood by him, but everyone has a point. I just couldn't forgive him. I just couldn't forget. I've become an overanalytical, judgemental bitch -- a shadow of my former self -- and I know that's not my nature. I have become a person I hate, and I can't possible expect him to endure that indefinitely. Like I said, everyone has a point. Even though I'm unhappy with my behavior and feel like I've tried to change, I just can't stop. That nagging thought that this is all his fault in the first place!, if he could've just been more responsible times X, Y, & Z!, creeps back into my brain when I least expect it. I don't want to keep him at arm's length anymore and at this point I don't think the way I feel will change for a long, long time -- if it ever does -- and that is just too long to try to go on living with each other every day. I feel like it is impossible for us to ever be the way we used to be, as close as we used to be. And that's that.

So there it is my dear reader. Maria at the end of yet another failed relationship.

Happy Un-Valentine's Day.